


So shame on me now

by visbs88



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Lemon, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sex at the disco, Short One Shot, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5552441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visbs88/pseuds/visbs88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sesshomaru and Naraku meet at the disco - they barely know each other, but it is enough to feel hatred. And to light the lust, under the flashes, the music, the exaltation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So shame on me now

He smiled.

“ _Come here, baby_ ”.

The music pulsated dull, empty.

The world slowed down.

Sesshomaru made his away through the nameless, faceless bodies, slipped through the shadows, a glass in his hand – and that gaze of his, sharper than the lights, harder than steel.

He came close.

“ _Like this, baby_ ”.

Naraku pulled back at the rhythm of a thousand breaths, biting his own lip, sneering, his throat dry.

There was no way to avoid that look anymore, and arousal began to clamp his chest and his stomach.

He was yearning for him. The idea of touching him was driving him crazy. But luring him...

“ _Come here. We'll have fun_ ”.

So slow. Everything was so slow inside the frenzy, the dark, the blinding.

Naraku bumped with his back into an unknown body. He stopped.

Sesshomaru was just a step away, his face like ice; his hips, his legs, a dream.

The lights turned out. The music blew its distant pulse.

Some flashes among the crowd – and them. Only them.

Sesshomaru got close, so close their pelvises touched, and the world swirled, was dyed in red. The bloody light rained from above and flooded that face: the half-opened lips, so perfect, so warm; the eyelashes; the skin.

And those eyes.

Naraku put his fingers on his hip, a silky touch on the damp cloth of the shirt; with the other hand he dared brushing against the chest, undoing an already loosen button, snickering, burning; but those eyes took the breath right out of him.

There was no amusement, nor mockery. There was no seduction, nor malice. No admiration, no desire.

There was nothing. Just ice and gold.

Almost rage.

Their breaths mixed. The light changed – green, blue. The rhythm pulsed, but they weren't dancing. Only a feeble wavering of the hips, of the knees, in perfect synchrony, to let the fabric gliding on the fabric, rubbing their stomachs, their thighs, their pelvises. Such a rough contact, so intense.

Naraku's pants became tight, wet. A blinding flash turned the world white, but underneath the half-closed eyelids, the black lashes, the gold of those irises twinkled like a diamond, and while the explosion of a new song was shaking the floor and the air and the dark shivered under the light Naraku closed his eyes, reached forward and skimmed with his tongue those trembling, soft, smooth lips – shudders of ecstasy and triumph along his spine, he inhaled his scent, clawed his steel body, clang onto him, went through his cheek, bit his neck, licked his skin, delved into his hair and into the exaltation, feeling Sesshomaru's erection pressing against his, still wrapped inside the jeans, still moving slowly.

Sesshomaru turned his head and Naraku opened his eyes without moving away, and he saw him bringing the glass to his lips, the light reflecting on it, the curve of his throat, the liquid slipping and disappearing, the drops sparkling like precious stones – and eventually Sesshomaru looked at him, his lips wet with alcohol, his icy expression, his pupils veiled with arousal and disdain.

And the following memory was the yellowish light of a loo and a white dirty wall, while Naraku was slamming Sesshomaru against it with brutality.

He heard him reaching for the latch with a hand and shut it, but his mind was empty, on fire, while he was hurling himself at those lips, deeply, this time, kissing them, biting them, pressing with all his own weight on that perfect, slender body, to crush it, to have it, to suffocate it. Sesshomaru's hands laced behind his neck, scratching his nape, and Naraku pushed with his pelvis in an obscene gesture, the clothes still on, the sweat on the skin, the anger and the euphoria.

Their panting was muffled and echoed in his skull, together with the whistle inside his ears caused by the too loud music, by the too intense arousal, and there was no more logic, nor seduction, nor hunting, just  _sex, sex, sex_ .

He unhooked Sesshomaru's expensive belt in a din that wounded the silence, lowered the zipper of the jeans, inserted a hand in his boxers and snickered with gross satisfaction – he got his fingers wet, gripped tightly, arrived to the testicles and kept rummaging, up and down: not a massage and not even a wank, just a voracious and wild touch to feel the pure joy of seeing grimaces of pain and pleasure on that perfect face, the body contorting, trying to escape and yet asking for more, till when the golden eyes stared at his, burning with rage and haughtiness,  _little snob slut_ , and then he kissed him again, tasting his teeth and his tongue, clutching him and then letting him go – to force him to turn around.

He delved his face into his hair, saw his hands on the wall right next the drawings of dicks and the obscene writings; he smiled, lowered those jeans brusquely, squeezed those buttocks to make them red, found his hole moist with sweat. He could hear him panting and didn't stop: he freed his own boner from the tight cloth, grabbed his hips, sunk into him with an abrupt thrust and pleasure exploded in his nerves and in his brain together with the groan of pain that Sesshomaru couldn't hold back, and he felt the slender body trembling, the knees giving in and then regaining balance. He pressed his chest against his back, the flesh grasped around him, and started fucking, sliding inside and out, the pleasure like an electric shock, utterly  _unbearable_ , while Sesshomaru's stomach was beginning to tense, the sighs were filling the buzz in his ears; he couldn't stop, he wasn't able to – his sight blurry, a hand gripped around that boner he couldn't see while Sesshomaru was arching, his lips clamped, his legs opened wider. Naraku bit his neck, pressed his lips on his cheek, going on fucking him, ransacking through the buttons of the shirt, tearing one off, untying them to find the belly, the stomach, the muscles, the nipples, scratching, suffering, coming so close to climax. Sesshomaru grabbed on to the top of the door with such strength, his knuckles blanched, letting a liquid moan slipping through despite his gnashed teeth, and Naraku couldn't help echoing him, and somebody flushed in the next toilet, but he did nothing but thrusting deeper, faster, more violently – there was nothing in that moment that wasn't perfect.

“ _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you_ ”.

Since middle school, since high school – never known him, always hated him.

“ _I adore you, I adore you, I adore you_ ”.

He wanted to yell it or whisper it in his ear, but he didn't have enough voice, nor enough strength. Pleasure and frustration were ripping his bowels. He wanted it to finish – he wanted, wanted, wanted, wanted more, wanted madly and he couldn't do anything else but trying to break him, but Sesshomaru was holding on, wasn't crying, wasn't praying.

“ _I hate you, baby, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..._ ”.

He had never fucked that way, burned that way, loved that way, and the world turned upside down when they came almost together in an orgasm of fire and shivers, uncontrolled moans, Sesshomaru repressing a scream biting his own fist, Naraku panting, cursing, clutching him, dying, and stayed inside his body even when everything was over, unable to let him go, embracing him against the wall, his blank glance on the writings, sperm slipping on the floor – “ _If you blow-job, swallow it, bitch_ ”, “ _My ass is free, call..._ ”, thousands of other words.

Sesshomaru's chest lowered and lifted underneath his hand, in silence.

The music pulsated far away.

Sesshomaru turned in his arms. He kissed him – sensual, damp, intense. Naraku's heart beat faster than ever, they caressed each other, they touched each other, skin against skin, for long, almost with tenderness. Then Sesshomaru moved away and looked him in the eye.

Gold and ice. Again.

Nothing.

He fixed his pants and his belt, didn't worry about the shirt. He made the latch slide, opened the door with a push, left.

Naraku tried to seize him, but his fingers slipped through his hair and he didn't even turn back.

He disappeared in the dark of the disco, in the light and in the chaos closing the door behind him, and Naraku stayed motionless, his back against the wall, a hand reaching out.

Longing and desire had never burned with such intensity inside his veins.

He smiled, tasting poison and hatred corroding his lips.

“ _I will find you again, baby_ ”.

But he wasn't sure to be the hunter – not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I did it again. Keep in mind that I'm Italian and so I bet the translation is not perfect, but I hope you enjoyed this little work - my OTP is so wonderful *sighs*  
> Thanks for reading!


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